


The best enemy

by Xobit



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, M/M, Non Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 21:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xobit/pseuds/Xobit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron decides to end the war...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The best enemy

This was… different somehow. Optimus was uneasy even if he gave no sign of it for anyone to see. It was just… just that Megatron usually made their fights a public display, using defeat and victory alike to manipulate his troops, the Autobots, and the humans. This was unusual, this fleeing, hiding underground before they had even really fought. A trap most likely, but what kind? 

Moving carefully though the dark, rough corridor he tried not to think about how his own troops had been waylaid and separated from him. Tried not to think about how very PLANNED all of this was. 

“Well, if it isn’t a Prime… and without his entourage? What are you thinking, Optimus…” The taunting tone made him stiffen and ready himself, but by then it was almost too late anyway. The heavy chassis of his long time enemy was against his own in mere seconds, taking him down… in an oddly gentle manner. Gentle for them at least; as there was no hitting, no pain… no scent of ozone denoting a ready-to-fire fusion canon. 

They wrestled, hands gripping armor, screeches of stressed metal and chassis scraping together filling the air. Optimus became continually more aware that something was odd, while he attempted to hit and even claw at Megatron the other only seemed interested in holding him. Eventually he won out… 

“What are you doing?” The words were gasped out, carried on hot air from his emergency intake, stress making them rough. This was not what he was used to… not what they had established as a rhythm between them. 

“Did you know that those pathetic little flesh bags you love so much have some interesting sayings?” Megatron’s voice was far less stressed then his, dark and almost purr like. The hold on him loosened and large black hands ran over his armor in a decidedly not fight like manner. 

“’If you cannot beat them, join them’… Have you ever thought about joining the Decepticons, Optimus?” As if the words were not shocking enough, one of the wandering hands found its way into a blatant grope on his closed interface panel. The other, in seeming anticipation of his violent reaction, caught his left hand and locked it behind his helmet. 

“Are you insane, Megatron! What are you trying to do?!” For a moment he strained, trying to get away, then he realized that this only served to press his panel against the warm hand and he shrank back, pressing against Megatron’s chassis. 

“Aww, my dear Prime! I personally think of it as me having begun to see it all clearly… there are far better things to do then fight, isn’t that what your Autobots have always been saying?” The amusement was almost as lethal as the insistent caresses, and they were caresses now, to his panel and codpiece. It made the heavy, dark purr sensual and seductive… 

“What the frag are you thinking!?” His shock, and the beginning panic, robbed him of any more elaborate words. 

“Oh… Optimus, I think I love it when you swear…” The voice had dropped further from purr to outright growl, so close to his audio receptor he could feel the vibrations as much as hear the sounds. It sent a shiver of illicit lust down his spinal struts…  
“Frag o-off!” Optimus wished his voice sounded steadier, that there was no static edging in on the firmness of his tone… that his codpiece wasn’t heating up under caresses it hadn’t felt for vorns. Who had time for interfacing in the middle of a war that took your near and dear from you at a moment’s notice? 

“I would far rather frag you, which is what is going to happen! Isn’t it, Optimus? I can feel how hot you are down here…” Agile black fingers unlatched the manual catches on his panel, caressing the hot components under it with steady pressure. Dermas and dentals, and frag Megatron for having soft gentle dermas and tiny lethally sexy fangs, nipped at his shoulder and neck cabling, teasing the coiling heat in his spark. 

“Stop! T-this is… beneath e-even you!” A last ditch effort, hitching every time the broad black digits touched his valve rim. An effort mocked by his spike, already sliding out to stand proud, and his valve, already weeping a few drops of lubricants. 

“No, you want this… for whatever reason. Just like I want it.” A growl heralded two fingers pushing inside him, spreading him obscenely wide. Or at least it felt that way to his poor, severely underused valve. Straining and wiggling to get free didn’t help and with every stroke, every divine, pleasure filled, fantastic stroke!, of the black digits his struggles weakened.

“Don’t tell me it haven’t crossed your processor… out there on the battle field, when we clashed, our chassis rubbing together, our hands touching accidentally against intimate areas…” Megatron kept on growling, detailing dirty, wonderful, sinful things he had imagined doing, that he wanted to do now. 

“It’s i-insane…” 

“No.” Megatron let go of him all of a sudden, pushing him so that he had to catch himself and ended up on all fours. He wasn’t free for long, hands closed over his hips in a firm grip and a pressure far more blunt then a few fingers pressed against his valve rim. 

“Relax, Optimus, and accept what’s going to happen.” Primus! It burned, it hurt and it felt so fragging good. Optimus’ arms collapsed under him, leaving him to press the side of his helmet against the rough rock flooring. Megatron’s spike seemed endless, it was certainly bigger than anything his foggy processor could remember he had ever had before. 

He let it happen, he couldn’t prevent it and his chassis wanted it. He half believed Megatron’s words, that he had wanted it all along, that he had, however briefly, thought such dirty hot things when they grappled on the battle field. Maybe he had, maybe this was what he wanted deep down… he had once, always?, admired Megatron and the Decepticons. Long ago… 

The spike was pulled out and Megatron moved him again, laid him out without Optimus even giving token resistance. Not till his chest plate clasps were touched, then his hands closed around Megatron’s wrists and he shook his helmet dazedly.

“No!”

“Yes… that too.” The spike was thrust back into his valve roughly and he gasped, grip weakening enough for the Decepticon leader to break loose. 

“Remember… ’If you cannot beat them, join them’. I intend for us to join.” There was no doubt that Megatron was serious, nor that he desired that outcome very much. Optimus focused on the face plates above him and tried to remember why this was so wrong… but it was too late. Blue spark light lit up the grey face plates and he whimpered as red light joined it.

“Don’t worry, Optimus, you’ll carry my sparklings, be my mate, and even my co-ruler… You’ll love being a Decepticon.” The growl was tinged with vicious amusement, the last thing he heard before their sparks met and the light from them turned pure purple…

* * *

“Didn’t I tell you, you would love it?” Purple optics looked back at him from the large mirror, the still aching Decepticon insignias on his shoulders seeming more alien then the new color. 

“You didn’t give me much choice…”

“If I had you would have said no.” Megatron’s image joined his own and Optimus leaned back against the broad chest of his bondmate. No, he would not have chosen this, but he would and could live with it now. Megatron did love him, though the feeling was nothing like the love he thought he would have once upon a time as a young mech on Cybertron. He still did not agree with Megatron’s manner of rule, but he was his mate now… A bite pulled him back to reality.

“Ouch! Could you not be gentle for once!?” Snarling he tore free and aimed a punch at the gunmetal grey shoulder nearest him. Not many seconds later he was face down on the soft metal mesh of their berth, arms twisted behind him and a knee in his back plating. 

“You don’t want it gentle, Prime…” And that was true too.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for the artist megop_murr_miay (LJ)/Murr-Miay (DA) 
> 
> Made for [The best enemy](http://xobit.deviantart.com/art/The-best-enemy-for-Murr-miay-195781267?q=gallery%3Axobit%2F29567379&qo=6#/d37888d)
> 
> Beta  
> AKzeal


End file.
